


Won't You Let Me Give You a Hand (I've Got an Extra I'm Not Using)

by crossroadswrite



Series: beAUtiful tropes (au-a-thon challenge) [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Airplane, Derek Hale is afraid of flying, Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, Stiles Helps, Week 5, canon complient, ish, no not with blowjobs don't be dirty, week 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-05
Updated: 2015-02-05
Packaged: 2018-03-10 15:49:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3296015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossroadswrite/pseuds/crossroadswrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is okay with planes. He doesn’t get airsick or trembles at the slightest turbulence. He’s not one of those twitchy people who board in with wide eyes and throw themselves out the door to kiss the ground as soon as they land, no he actually enjoys traveling by plane.</p><p>In fact he considers that planes are his bitches, that’s how much he’s so got this long trip.</p><p>He’s relaxed and sprawling on his chair with his bag tucked under his seat for easy access to get his chosen entertainment for this trip.</p><p>Derek, on the other hand, is clutching the arms of his chair as if his grip is the only thing keeping the plane in the air.</p><p>Apparently airplanes are not Derek’s bitches.</p><p>--OR--</p><p>afraid of flying + fell asleep on you tropes = too much fluff ew</p>
            </blockquote>





	Won't You Let Me Give You a Hand (I've Got an Extra I'm Not Using)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ang3lba3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ang3lba3/gifts).



> Based on the prompts:
> 
> ➥[i fell asleep on your shoulder and you were too polite to move or wake me up au](http://tickatocka.tumblr.com/post/101530238776/airport-related-aus-tho-i-fell-asleep-on-your)
> 
> ➥[i’m afraid of flying and you were incredibly helpful and tolerant and sweet about it au](http://tickatocka.tumblr.com/post/101530238776/airport-related-aus-tho-i-fell-asleep-on-your)
> 
> Title taken from I'd Be Lying by Greg Laswell.

Stiles is okay with planes. He doesn’t get airsick or trembles at the slightest turbulence. He’s not one of those twitchy people who board in with wide eyes and throw themselves out the door to kiss the ground as soon as they land, no he actually enjoys traveling by plane.

In fact he considers that planes are his _bitches,_ that’s how much he’s so got this long trip.

He’s relaxed and sprawling on his chair with his bag tucked under his seat for easy access to get his chosen entertainment for this trip.

Derek, on the other hand, is clutching the arms of his chair as if his grip is the only thing keeping the plane in the air.

Apparently airplanes are not Derek’s bitches.

Stiles opens his mouth to make fun of him and only stops himself because he sees the way Derek’s nostrils are flaring in an attempt to not start hyperventilating – which is not working, it’s kind of worrying how aggressively Derek is breathing – the way his eyes are wide and slightly panicked.

“It’s gonna be fine,” Stiles tells him, gaze steadily trained on his lap where he’s slowly and methodically untangling his earphones.

They don’t do this often, the being nice to each other thing. So Stiles keeps his eyes trained on what he knows and doesn’t look at Derek’s probable bitchface.

“You don’t know that,” Derek grits out. Stiles considers for a minute telling him all the facts that support how plane crashes are, but Derek’s life is kind of tragic and Stiles has not had the best luck either so maybe their combined bad karma will bring the plane down on its on. He decides to stay quiet about that.

“Wow you’re really freaked out,” he says instead. He’s honestly kind of amazed by how honestly panicked Derek looks.

“Shut up,” Derek spits.

“We could’ve driven there. It’s not my fault you’re a stubborn asshole.”

Granted that the trip would’ve been _so_ much longer and Derek looked like he’d rather shoot himself with wolfsbane than spend that much time in a tiny closed spaced with Stiles.

Derek’s hand spasm in the armrest, he clenches his jaw even more tightly; Stiles winces sympathetically for his teeth.

He seems tenser than he was now, if that’s even possible.

 Stiles sighs, long-suffering and reaches over, skimming his fingers against the back of Derek’s hand, making him jerk in surprise.

“Shut up, I’m just making sure you don’t break the stupid things.” He’s definitely not gonna look at Derek now.

As soon as the sit belt sign finally says they can click it off he’s going to reward himself with a cookie for such a good lie.

To his surprise Derek turns his palm over and grips his hand like Stiles is his personal lifeline. He takes a deep breath and scoots closer to him.

Stiles puts his earphones on and settles in for a little bit, knowing full well that they won’t talk about it. They never talk about it, it’s just not a them thing to do.

Feelings and healthy relationships are Scott’s thing. Stiles’ are overinvested borderline obsessions, going too fast too deep and crashing head first that will invariably end up with him braining himself on the floor.

It’s okay, though. Years of close to zero coordination and spastic limbs got him used to braining himself on hard surfaces.

The seatbelt sign cheerfully dings telling the passengers that they can take them off and Stiles does so, immediately reaching for his bag, never letting go of Derek’s hand, not after Derek gripped it just a little bit tighter when it looked like Stiles was about to let go. Stiles was not happy with the way his bones grinded together, so he decides to leave his hand there for now. It’s not it’s a hardship for him or anything.

“I need to stop hating flying,” Derek starts, grinds his teeth together, “Laura flew back to Beacon Hills when-“ he cuts himself off, makes a noise like he’s preparing himself to pull out his own teeth with pliers “but I refused. I took the Camaro out of storage and drove. When I got here she was already-“

“It’s fine, you don’t need to-“

“I do. It’s stupid. It’s just an airplane and I can’t afford getting there too late. Again.”

Stiles squeezes his hand, runs his thumb over the back of Derek’s hand soothingly, “It’s not your fault.”

“If I had just-“

“I didn’t know Laura-“ Stiles interrupts, “-I just vaguely remember her from when I saw the Hales around town, but it seems to me that she’d be kicking your ass right about now. And she’d agree with me, so shut up and try to get some sleep.”

Derek breathes out forcefully, looks for a moment like he’s about to argue, but doesn’t. His hand slowly relaxes in Stiles’.

“You’re an idiot,” Derek throws at him, easily.

“Butthead,” Stiles says just as easily, shoves his well-deserved cookie in his mouth, offers one to Derek and settles in once more with only his earphones for entertainment. He makes sure he passes all the songs that annoy Derek (and maybe the ones that relax him in-between but no one needs to know about that).

They’re in the middle of their flight, Derek’s hand has still to leave his when something magical happens: Derek starts to drop off, eyelids with a fragility that contrasts with his sharp jaw slowly falling closed and then shooting back up again, all systems on high alert. Stiles thinks about firemen and surprise drills for some reason, always on the alert for the next call.

Derek would make a good firemen, especially with the tight t-shirts and suspenders. The ladies (and men, mind you there is a reason why they have a very popular lucrative gay club in a small town) would actually have strokes. Which would actually work in their favor since Derek would be the one to help their poor little hearts.

Stiles _stealthily_ changes to his sleeping playlist, filled with soft songs and good oldies that his mom used to love.

“I see what you’re doing,” Derek grumbles, head jerking back up.

“I’m not doing anything,” Stiles lies, scooting down on his seat a little bit so his shoulder is at the perfect height for pillow service purposes.

“Horrible liar,” Derek accuses, but shifts so whenever his head drops it’s pillowed on Stiles’ shoulder.

“You’re cheating, stop listening to my heartbeat.”

Derek snorts, “Natural ability, not cheating.”

Stiles tugs a little on him and Derek almost willingly tips over settling his head on Stiles’ shoulder and eyes closing with finality, shoulders slowly relaxing.

Stiles thinks that’s nothing short of miraculous to be honest.

“You’re not stealthy.”

“Totally am,” Stiles whispers, unwilling to do anything to disturb Derek’s almost sleep, “I’m Batman.”

Derek makes another soft sound, Stiles starts running his thumb soothingly over the back of his hand and tells himself he’s doing this so Derek will just go to sleep and not crush his hand for the two hours left on their flight.

Yup, that’s the only reason he’s doing this, there are absolutely no crush related reasons, Stiles is totally not preening Derek can relax around him even in public and revealing in the warm weight of him along his side.

Derek’s breathing starts to slowly steady. After ten minutes he’s fully asleep while Stiles is left with an overpriced book to entertain himself and resist the sudden overwhelming urge to just reach over and scratch at Derek’s hair, behind his ears. Just to check if it’s as soft as it looks (by the few strands tickling his neck, he’d say softer) and see if Derek will loll out his tongue and thump his back paw as soon as ear scratches become a thing.

Is that racist? He feels like that’s racist. Maybe.

He’ll try it on Scott later, there’s less of a chance of his hand actually getting ripped off. Or maybe on Isaac, he looks like someone who’d appreciate head scratches maybe.

He chances a glance over at Derek, lifts his hand-

“I’ll bite you.”

-and promptly drops it again.

“You’re supposed to be asleep.”

“You’re supposed to not try and pet me.”

“How did you-“

Derek smirks, eyes still closed, head still pillowed in Stiles’ shoulder so he has to crane his neck at an awkward angle to see his face.

“I’m Batman.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Hi?](http://crossroadswrite.tumblr.com)


End file.
